


If I said you had a beautiful body (would you hold it against me?)

by Havokftw



Series: A penny for your thoughts. Five bucks if they're dirty. [7]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Bondage, Bottom Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Butt Plugs, Deepthroating, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Punishment, Rough Oral Sex, Sugar Daddy Choi Seungcheol, Teasing, Top Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, sugar Baby Lee Jihoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18937048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: “Are you seriously trying to role-play with me right now? While I’m at work.”





	If I said you had a beautiful body (would you hold it against me?)

As long and as detailed as the last meeting was, it doesn’t succeed in dispelling the concerns of the senior board members, who are—as far as Seungcheol’s concerned—a bunch of big mouthed, weak-minded sons of privilege with more money than sense, and who’s only qualifying trait seems to be nit-picking every acquisition he makes.

He has the power to fire them of course—replace them with like-minded people more susceptible to his challenging strategy. But he accepts that would only serve to prove the theory that this most recent acquisition is _personal_.

And it _is_ personal is the thing; he has no reason to raid Won K-Com’s assets except to see Shin Wonho suffer. But there’s no need to paint his distasteful feelings about the man in black and white. It’s much more sensible to appear detached for now, lay out a well-structured long-term plan with a tempting profit margin and let the fat-cats cream themselves over the money that will line their fat pockets somewhere down the line.

Seungcheol doesn't have time to stew over it during the 30 minutes before the _next_ meeting. So he forces the gnawing sensation of unfinished business aside, and does his best to focus on the work before him.

He manages it imperfectly for about fifteen minutes, before there is a quiet knock on his door.

“Come in.” He calls out, not raising his eyes.

The door opens a fraction, someone squeezes through the gap, closes it behind them and shuffles forward carefully.

“You wanted to speak to me Sir?”

“I don’t—” Seungcheol’s question cuts short when he raises his eyes and finds Jihoon standing quietly in front of his desk, head bowed.

He’s wearing a pair of sharply pressed khakis, the likes of which Seungcheol has never seen him in before. There's also an equally immaculate white shirt, a neatly knotted tie, and a deep blue jacket with a Choi Corp. employee badge fastened to the pocket.

Seungcheol scrutinizes it for a good thirty seconds before determining that it is, in fact, a fake.

A damn good fake.

Which still explains absolutely nothing of where he got it and why he’s here.

It's only long practice that keeps Seungcheol's voice steady. “Jihoonie—What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry I’m late Mr Choi,” Jihoon says after a long, precarious pause. “I just got your memo and came as fast as I could.”

Seungcheol caps his fountain pen without redirecting his gaze. “What memo?”

“If it’s about that big deal I lost us—” Jihoon continues like Seungcheol hasn’t spoken. He sounds tight and strained—maybe even a little scared—as he adds, “I’m really sorry Mr Choi. I—I promise it won’t happen again.”

Seungcheol flounders for a caught-out moment before answering, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jihoon scratches his ear, looking so studiously abashed Seungcheol is starting to doubt his own faculties, until…

Until he suddenly gets it.

_Oh. Hell._

Seungcheol is positive his face has  _you've got to be kidding me_  written all over it.

“Are you seriously trying to role-play with me right now? While I’m at _work_.” He says, incredulous.  

But Jihoon doesn’t break character. He remains in front of him, a well-rehearsed peculiar uncertainty on his face. Seungcheol can even see the smooth bob-and-rise in his throat as he swallows.

“I hope my previous conduct won’t affect my chances of getting that bonus Sir. I’ve been working towards it all year. I really need that bonus for a down payment on my mortgage.”

So, _yes_ on the role play then.

“Jihoon—We agreed that work hours are off limits. I know you didn’t forget that.” Seungcheol continues in what he considers to be a very magnanimous manner. 

Jihoon seems to be having a completely different conversation because he affects an incredulous look and says, “No, please sir! Please don’t fire me! I have a wife and three young children to feed. I can’t afford to lose my job!”

And he sounds so damn sincere Seungcheol wants to laugh.

He doesn’t though. He allows himself a brief tight-lipped smile.

“Well, that serves you right for having three kids when you haven’t even turned 20 yet.”

Jihoon drops his eyes to the desktop for a fraction of a second, “Please Sir, give me one more chance. I’ll do _anything_.” He pauses, then leans half-way across the table, wetting his lips, Seungcheol's eyes obligingly noting the motion, “ _Anything you want.”_

Seungcheol narrows his eyes and fixes him with a look that might lead to something much more interesting than a lecture if they were anywhere but here and if he weren’t well on his way to being exceedingly pissed off. 

“Jihoon—” He says sharply, “I have a meeting in ten minutes. We don’t mess around in the office—we _discussed_ this.”

Jihoon’s coy expression last a mere few seconds longer, and then he straightens up and crosses his arms with a huff when Seungcheol fails to take the bait. “Yes, yes—you’re always having meetings these days. Meetings and conference calls and business trips and no time for Jihoonie. Jihoonie is lonely. Jihoonie wants to play with you.”

Seungcheol is overcome with a stupid rush of fondness; Jihoon only refers to himself in the third person when he’s feeling particularly sorry for himself.

“Jihoonie is being very naughty, and it won’t get him what he wants. Daddy’s busy.” Seungcheol points out.

Jihoon offers up a frustrated little frown, “But we haven’t spent quality time together in ages cause you’ve been so ‘ _supposedly’_ busy. I miss you. Don’t—don’t you miss me too?”

Then he trails off, seeming to slump in on himself a bit.

Seungcheol’s heart aches at how small his Dumpling suddenly looks. The stubborn bravado has vanished as quickly as the irritation in his voice and Seungcheol is out of his chair and rounding the desk without even thinking about it.

 _No sexy visits at the office._ This is one of Seungcheol's most strictly observed rules since that time they nearly got caught by the night-duty guard. And even though he agreed wholeheartedly, Jihoon has been waging a war of attrition on said rule since. In fact, so many of Seungcheol's carefully crafted resolutions have already fallen victim to Jihoon's cat-like persistence.

Seungcheol consoles himself that this bit of rules-breaking is necessary because Jihoon has never looked so huggable before.

“ _Of course,_ I miss you Dumpling.” Seungcheol says, wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist and pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You _know_ I do. If I could delegate this shit to someone else, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but negotiations are in a precarious position right now, and I have to be here leading it all whether I like it or not.”

Jihoon pouts at him, which is so unfair.

“No—no, please don’t do that.” Seungcheol groans, using a hand to shield his view of the pout. “Please don’t do that to me. It’s blatant emotional manipulation and you _know_ I have no defence against it.”

A moment later the corners of Jihoon's mouth slant up in amusement; he knows damn well the impact of ‘The Pout’™.

Seungcheol cuddles him close again, resting his chin on the top of his head. The scent of Jihoon’s fruity shampoo tickles his nose, and it takes him a moment to put his finger on a new development.

“Wait—you’re blonde again. When did you change back?”

“Ages ago. I sent you a load of pictures.” Jihoon grumbles under his breath, and Seungcheol can't tell if he sounds hurt or pissed he’s only just noticed.

Seungcheol raises his hands in surrender and tries not to smile. “Sorry, sorry, of course. I must have forgotten.”

Honestly, Seungcheol doesn’t _recall_ getting any such pictures. But then again Jihoon sends him approximately 1 billion snapchats a day, everything from _‘I just bought some new lingerie, whaddya think_ _😉’_ to _‘OMG—there’s a spider in my room the size of my FACE!’_ so it’s plausible a _few_ messages have slipped under the radar.

He still feels guilty though; their interactions really _have_ been limited lately, since Jihoon’s been swamped with university work and Seungcheol has been swamped with the logistical nightmare of buying and dissembling a telecommunications giant.

“Tell you what,” Seungcheol begins, reaching up to fix Jihoon’s tie—only to discover it’s a clip on. And of course, it is. “I expect to finish up here around seven-ish, so maybe I could pick you up and we’ll do something fun.”

“But that’s ages away!” Jihoon huffs, throwing his hands up. “Aren’t you the Boss? Can’t you just tell everyone to go home for the day?” He insists with a mutinous expression that perfectly encapsulates his naïve worldview.

Seungcheol rubs his temple, tiredly. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

Jihoon offers up another frustrated little frown, “You know I hate when you say stuff like that.”

Seungcheol cringes because, _yeah_ , he did know that.

Bringing up ‘the age difference’ thing is perhaps not the _best_ way to endear Jihoon to his line of reasoning.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But to answer your question—No, I can’t. It’s _because_ I’m the Boss I can’t just send people home so I can have a good time. It would be extremely fiscally irresponsible. Even though I’m the majority shareholder, I still have a board of directors to answer to, other shareholders, people who trust me to make wise, technically sound decisions with their money as well as my own. If for any reason it was determined that I _was_ acting irresponsibly, they could vote to remove me. I’d still be the majority shareholder, but I’d have no say in the direction of the company and that would suck ass. Now do you understand?”

Jihoon’s already shaking his head, “Nope. Not a word.” But instead of being discouraged by the lack of insight, he plasters himself against Seungcheol’s front, looping his arms around his neck. “But I always get so hot when you talk business shit. _Fiscally_ —” He repeats, drawing out the syllables. “Sounds _kinky_.”

Seungcheol isn't even surprised that Jihoon’s getting turned on by that.

He once had an out-of-hours conference call at the apartment and spent half the time trying to keep Jihoon off his dick all because he used the term ‘market penetration strategy’. Which, he’ll have you know, is a legitimate corporate term and absolutely not an invitation to get naked and climb onto his lap, regardless of Jihoon’s opinion on the matter.  

“So, whaddya say?” Seungcheol asks, squeezing Jihoon’s waist. “Tonight—I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Jihoon’s grin turns disturbingly wide, but his intentions are innocent enough. “Maybe you could take me for another driving lesson?” He asks.

Seungcheol nods, even though there’s still some lingering psychological trauma from the _last_ driving lesson disaster episode.

_(‘Wow—that woman and her pram came out of nowhere!’_

_‘You mounted the curb!’)_

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do. Tonight, _you’re_ the boss.” Seungcheol says magnanimously.

He knows Jihoon loves being made the boss of things, even small stuff like what music they listen to or where they eat or what new athletic sex position they just _have_ to try. It seems he appreciates being made the boss of how Seungcheol should spend his down-time too, because his eyes shine dementedly, making him look like a cross between a cheeky cherub and something from an inner circle of hell.

“Can I at least get a kiss before I go?” He asks, then his wiry arms are wrapping around Seungcheol’s neck and his face is tilted up in anticipation and Seungcheol isn’t a big enough bastard to say no.

His resistance always seems to crumble around Jihoon, which is  _exactly_  why Jihoon can’t just go waltzing in for a visit whenever the whim hits him.

“Alright, but only a little one. Can’t afford to get too excited right before this meeting.” Seungcheol grins, dipping down to meet Jihoon’s lips.

The kiss is not the chaste, light-hearted touch Seungcheol expects.

No.

Despite his attempts to keep it sweet, subtle— _brief_ , Jihoon turns into something hot and wet in a heartbeat; long, greedy pulls of mouth that leave them both on the verge of breathlessness.

Seungcheol’s entire body goes on alert, half eager to press forward, half frantic to pull away from Jihoon’s touch. Thankfully, the rational part of his brain that knows this—here, right now, is a bad idea, kicks in. He tries to break the kiss gently, with a muttered “Jihoon, I can’t,” only for Jihoon to surge forward and reclaim his lips.

His palms slip from Seungcheol face to his chest, then lower, to grope at his rapidly stiffening cock. Seungcheol chokes back a groan, first surprise, then complaint when Jihoon’s grip tightens, fingers grasping the hard line of his cock through his pants and stroking him, once, twice.

“You’re so easy,” Jihoon laughs against his mouth, and the sound is dark and taunting.  

And of course, he planned this.

Seungcheol growls out a refusal, finally breaking the kiss with a gruff, “You little shit.”

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow at him, then shifts, fingers squeezing tight along Seungcheol’s cock, and then carefully relaxing before patting the now very obvious bulge in his pants.

“Just a little parting gift to remind you what you missed out on. Have fun at your meeting.” Jihoon smirks, and even does a little _‘hehehe’_ as he scampers towards the door.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches as he watches him go, his control threatening to crack down the middle, threatening to crack into fucking pieces.

Suddenly there is only one conceivable path forward.

A little extreme, sure—and yet, it's the only way Seungcheol can think to even the stakes.

In an instant he crosses the room, resting his palm on the door and slamming is shut before Jihoon can open it all the way. Another instant and he has Jihoon pinned against a sturdy bookcase, blood heating at the wide flash of Jihoon’s eyes.

“Oh, what’s this?” Jihoon murmurs. Both of his hands have twisted in the fabric of Seungcheol's shirt, but he lets go quickly, framing Seungcheol's face between his palms. “Changed your mind, _Sir_?"

Seungcheol glares. His Dumpling is far too smart for his own good; there’s no way he doesn't already know the answer to _that_ question.

“Yeah, I have. Take your fucking clothes off.” He says sharply, jaw clenched tight. His heart’s pounding too heavily, and he can feel a slight tremor in his hands.

This is one more line he shouldn't cross; a risky situation when he should be  _careful_. When discovery would be disastrous.

 _But_ —forethought has never really been his forté though.

And Jihoon _kind of_ has it coming.

* * *

The carpet of Seungcheol's office chafes under Jihoon’s bare knees, but there’s not much he can do about it right now because he can’t exactly _move_ much, and if he sits up too straight he knocks his head against the underside of Seungcheol's desk.

Oh, yeah—here’s the thing: he’s naked. Also Blindfolded. And maybe shivering a little—probably because of the nakedness and reduced circulation. He can’t do anything about it because his wrists are pinned uncomfortably tight at the small of his back, bound by the soft but unbreakable silk of Seungcheol’s tie. And to top it all off, an uncomfortably large plug is nestled deep in his ass, making it impossible to remain truly motionless as it nudges persistently against his prostate and strains the aching rim of his hole.

Normally he’d complain about the awkward position, but here’s the other thing: Seungcheol gagged him too.

Oh, and it’s not normal ring or ball or wad of fabric.

It’s a _special_ gag.

He _knows_ , because he brought it himself; one of the many toys he decided to bring along with him for this seemed-good-at-the-time ideas to seduce Seungcheol at work.

The gag is a shaped silicon thing, designed to force its way uncomfortably far into his mouth. It’s soft but unyielding, heavy on his tongue, nudging at the back of his throat. Even breathing as carefully as he can, Jihoon gags whenever he inhales wrong. Has to steady himself by force of will because Seungcheol isn’t even here to calm him down.

He doesn't _know_ how long he's been alone, how long he’s been kneeling under Seungcheol's desk. His body aches with the strain of holding this position. His legs shake with the exertion of remaining spread and inviting even though there’s nobody to see him. His cock is painfully hard, ignored, because Seungcheol  _isn’t here_ to touch him.

But the worst part, the absolute worst part, is that the door to Seungcheol’s office is not locked. 

 _He knows this_ because more than once it has opened only for some politely unfamiliar voice to call out, "Mr. Choi?" and then retreat when they realize the office is empty.

And yeah, Jihoon has to admit this is a pretty fucking exciting. This is by far the kinkiest shit Seungcheol has ever pulled—tying him up and leaving him naked in his office for just _anyone_ to see—but he's pretty pissed that he wasn't consulted on the unlocked door thing. Because he would have said no, he would have vetoed the shit out of that, just on principle.

No one can see Jihoon exactly, out of sight under Seungcheol’s monstrosity of a desk, but god forbid someone decides to come into the office _anyway_. Every creak of the doorknob brings a fresh jolt of adrenaline, and Jihoon holds perfectly still—perfectly silent—breathless and taut until the door finally shuts.

Fuck, what he'd give to know how much time has passed.

Seungcheol's meeting was _supposed_ to last an hour—but it feels like Jihoon has been kneeling a hell of a lot longer than that. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past Seungcheol to make some last-minute addition to his itinerary just to keep Jihoon squirming here.

Just to keep him helpless.

Jihoon is suddenly confident this is _exactly_ what Seungcheol is doing, and his cock twitches at the blatant power play.

God! That kinky bastard—Jihoon’s going to ride him till next week!

He tenses at another click of the door, but this time no voice calls out. There are a couple of footsteps, then the audible click of the door closing. The even quieter sound of the lock turning a moment later.

Jihoon holds his breath, remains perfectly quiet.

That _has_ to be Seungcheol ( _please God be Seungcheol_ ) but the approaching footsteps aren't enough to cement his certainty. If it's someone else—someone snooping around—his only hope is that they don't waltz behind the desk and see him, because fuck—

_How’s he going to explain this?_

The footsteps are heavy. They round the desk at a leisurely pace, and whoever it is can't fail to see Jihoon now.

But the footsteps don’t falter. There's no sound of surprise. Another moment and the new arrival stops directly in front of his hiding place.

Jihoon draws a shuddering breath of relief. Seungcheol for sure. _Finally_ he gets to stop waiting.

Maybe the blindfold will come off and he will get a glimpse of the window behind the desk, figure out just how much time has passed.

The massive leather chair creaks as it takes Seungcheol's weight, and Jihoon resists the urge to scoot clumsily forward on his knees. There's a chance Seungcheol would find his neediness cute and endearing and give him a pat on the head; but there is also a chance he’ll faceplant into the floor.

His stillness is rewarded soon enough. Chair wheels roll across thin carpet as Seungcheol's chair moves into place in front the desk. Powerful legs fit snugly to either side of Jihoon. He can't see, but he can feel the nudge of Seungcheol's knees past his shoulders, and he knows he’s situated between widely spread thighs.

_What the fuck?_

Is Seungcheol planning on keeping him _trapped_ under here?

Jihoon's exhausted body shivers in protest, even as a zing of something hot and eager twists through his blood.

He doesn't need to  _see_  Seungcheol's cock to know how it looks right now. Straining beneath dark fabric—fucking huge, for _him_. Promise and threat in equal measure. Maybe Seungcheol will fuck him knelt on the floor while Jihoon ruts desperately against the carpet. Maybe he’ll press him against the floor to ceiling window and take him where the whole industrial block can see. Maybe he’ll just use his fingers, working each one in at a leisurely pace until he makes good on his promise to sink his whole fist in.

Jihoon’s absolutely ready for any of those scenarios. Seungcheol will make use of him one way or another; he only needs to be patient a little while longer.

"Aw, look at you, waiting so patiently for me." The genuine pleasure in Seungcheol's voice warms Jihoon's skin. Competent hands reach for the straps holding the invasive gag in Jihoon's mouth, and there's a slide of leather and the clink of a buckle.

Jihoon chokes a little as Seungcheol removes the gag more roughly than necessary. The fleeting difficulty earns a fond chuckle; Seungcheol wouldn’t have positioned him this way if he didn't want to see Jihoon suffer a little.

Jihoon licks dry lips and gives his first unhampered swallow in what feels like hours. The gag thumps quietly onto the desk above him, and then Seungcheol's hands are on him again. Fingers twining in Jihoon's hair and forcing him forward. Forcing his face against Seungcheol's crotch, where Seungcheol's erection strains beneath smooth fabric.

Jihoon nuzzles closer, letting the trapped line of arousal rub against his cheek.

Seungcheol exhales sharply and grips tighter, rubs even harder against him.

Jihoon wonders how on _Earth_ Seungcheol survived his meeting, how he managed to avoid tripping on his own dick on his way back to this office. Seungcheol is huge and rigid now, after only a few short minutes. Even soft he is impressively hung, but turned on like this, he’s…. _woah_.

There must have been some careful positioning of a notepad, an uncomfortable stretch with his legs firmly crossed and absolutely no standing during the meeting whatsoever because there is no way in _hell_ he could conceal an erection otherwise.  

Jihoon almost, _almost_ feels bad for teasing him at work.

Almost.

There is unnecessary roughness in the way Seungcheol forces him back a moment later. One hand disappears, but the other slips to the back of his skull and twists cruelly in his hair, gathering a fistful and using it to anchor him in place. There's no mistaking what the other hand is doing—not when the snick of a zipper and rustle of fabric reach Jihoon's ears—and he licks his lips. Wishes he could fucking _see_.

That huge dick, and it's all his.

He bites his lower lip as the grip in his hair propels him forward so sharply he loses his balance. It's not like he has very far to fall—there is only Seungcheol in front of him—and of course Seungcheol's relentless fist in his hair, keeping him upright despite his tumble. Jihoon gets his knees back under him. Rights himself as quickly as he can, agonizingly aware of the enormous plug still in his ass, still hampering his movements.

He can smell the salty musk of the cock he is about to taste. Seungcheol's thighs are hot brackets to either side of him, and he is holding Jihoon so close. So greedy and intimate.

"Well, what the  _fuck_  are you waiting for," Seungcheol snarls, jerking Jihoon's head even farther into his lap. "Open that pretty mouth and work for your bonus."

Excitement sings along Jihoon's skin. His face—already uncomfortably warm—flushes hotter as he drops his jaw, opening his mouth wide for Seungcheol's use. It takes only a moment for the grip in his hair to force him down, and the head of Seungcheol's cock slides past his lips. Over his tongue. Heavy and slick with precome, and overwhelming heat.

The head presses deeper, only stopping when the nudge at the back of Jihoon's throat makes him gag and choke. It's a temporary reprieve—Jihoon knows this from experience—but it's a reprieve just the same. He breathes through his nose and relishes the weight on his tongue, the sensation of fullness. Braces himself for what comes next.

Seungcheol doesn’t ask if he's ready. Simply exerts inescapable strength to force Jihoon farther down his cock. Jihoon gags again, but he can do this. He relaxes his throat and ignores the physical discomfort as rigid flesh slips past his defences, as it fills him, impossibly deep. Choking off his air and trapping him securely between Seungcheol's spread thighs.

The pressure at the back of his head doesn't relent until there is literally nowhere else for Jihoon to go. It takes every ounce of self-control not to gag violently on the length of cock filling his mouth and pulsing down his throat. The fabric of Seungcheol's pants are a surreal sensation along his face, and there’s hot skin against his lips, a muscular belly squashing his nose. Seungcheol's fingers release his hair and then his broad palm curls at the base of his skull instead, gripping him tightly. Wedging him firmly in place.

Jihoon holds his breath as long as he can. Keeps his gag reflex under control as endless seconds stretch out before him. He’s had plenty of practice deep-throating Seungcheol, but neither of these things is easy. His entire body wants to rebel after a few seconds, his senses swimming and his limbs shaking with effort. The plug in his ass is impossible to ignore, just like the length down his throat.

When he can't keep still any longer, he begins to struggle, jerking beneath Seungcheol's touch even though he doesn't have the leverage to pull back.

Seungcheol's other hand slips into place directly above the first, and he keeps Jihoon on his cock another ten seconds just to prove he can. As though either one of them needs proof of just who’s in charge here.

When he finally drags Jihoon off his cock, the flow of fresh oxygen is a violent relief. Jihoon sucks in desperate lungful’s of it, shaking under Seungcheol's hands. He hasn't managed enough before Seungcheol is hauling him forward again, forcing his head back into place. Filling his throat more roughly this time.

Jihoon breathes a hurt sound, but even that’s almost immediately muffled as his air cuts off and he gags around the hard, familiar length.

"You’re so well behaved like this, " Seungcheol murmurs while Jihoon chokes and spasms around his cock. The gentleness in his voice is belied by the ruthless grip he has on Jihoon’s skull. “It’s amazing really. Such a good Dumpling, all because you’ve got dick down your throat. I’m beginning to think _any_ dick would do.”

Jihoon tries to shake his head, but he is wedged securely between Seungcheol's thighs, held relentlessly still by the hands cradling his skull.

"Maybe I should bring you to the next meeting," Seungcheol continues. "Plenty of dick for you there, and I’m sure your special brand of persuasion would go a long way in encouraging the senior board members in agreeing to my terms."

It's just a fucked up fantasy. Obscene and very implausible. There is literally no way Seungcheol would let that happen, no way he he’d ever share Jihoon with anyone else. He’d said as much himself. This is just one of the filthy verbal tangents he uses during role-play—but he paints the picture so _vividly_ Jihoon tries to moan.

The effort kicks off a renewed round of choking, and Seungcheol eases him back more gently. Pats his head, gives him space to breathe, but once again it's not enough. He pulls Jihoon down again too soon. Not yet fucking his throat in earnest. Apparently content for the moment to prolong the torment for both of them.

Always so endlessly patient.

Jihoon knows he could learn a thing or two from Seungcheol about patience; he’s never possessed endurance like this. He wouldn’t put up with it  _now_  if he had any ability to force Seungcheol's hand. But he’s helpless right now, and he can do nothing but wait and _take it_  as Seungcheol uses his mouth as slow as he likes.

When Seungcheol's cock is fully sheathed and Jihoon's face is crushed once more to his belly, Seungcheol continues, "Do you like that idea Jihoonie? Do you like the idea of me finding volunteers to come feed you cock when I'm too busy to take care of you?"

Jihoon shudders and his cock twitches at the idea. Fuck, he hates it—can’t imagine doing this with anyone else—but he's so turned on at the mere suggestion he  _hurts_.

"I know plenty of guys in this office who would love your mouth—love to keep it busy while I work. And frankly, I could use the help. I’m a business man, with a company to run you know, I can’t be constantly seeing to your needs."

This time when Seungcheol pulls him back, it's an even shorter reprieve. And when the length of cock slides back down Jihoon's throat it doesn’t stay. Seungcheol keeps him moving. Guiding him in a deep but unhurried rhythm, _fucking finally_ , dragging him back and forth so that he can fuck Jihoon's throat without rising from his chair.

It’s amazing how Seungcheol can  _keep talking_ through it, though he sounds more ragged with every passing second. "You'd be good for company morale— _fuck_ —so fucking good for me, I know you'd be good for them too. Or maybe— _ngh_ —you could take care of my more prestigious business associates. We’d make a great team—me hammering out details above the table and you hard at work under. We’ll have finally found the perfect use for your pretty mouth."

The pace speeds and Jihoon's face burns. Jesus, he can picture the scenario. The weight of a stranger's dick on his tongue. Multiple strangers. Faceless business men, all standing around him in a circle, waiting their turn. One after another they'd use Jihoon's mouth at Seungcheol's command.

Oh, god.

He's choking on nearly every thrust now, and Seungcheol must be close because his hips are rising from the chair. Riding Jihoon's mouth and throat all the harder. Coaxing wet, choking sounds from him without guilt. The angle is awkward, the pace relentless, as Seungcheol's rams his thick cock down his throat over and over again. Merciless, methodical and brutal.

Perhaps not even deliberately brutal so much as careless, as Seungcheol chases his own pleasure and finally—

Fucking,  _finally_ —comes down Jihoon's bruised and aching throat.

Jihoon moans around the length in his mouth. He would have liked Seungcheol to finish on his face, wanted Seungcheol to paint him in come, to taste him, but Seungcheol is wedged so deep, so far down his throat again that none of the slick release even touches his tongue. But he swallows it all without protest, breathing an overstimulated  _sob_  when Seungcheol yanks him harshly off the thick length.

Jihoon’s lungs heave, deprived of air for so long, and his chest rises and falls frantically. His whole body curls forward, even though there’s not enough space under the desk—even though the movement nudges his cheek against Seungcheol's cock. Now that it's in reach, and Seungcheol is otherwise indisposed, Jihoon mouths along the length until he finds the wet tip and sucks it back into his mouth, humming around the head blissfully. 

A moment of quiet panting later, and gentle fingers card through Jihoon's hair and untie the knot at the back of the blindfold. Jihoon blinks as the fabric falls away, finds even what little light sneaks under the desk too much. His eyes adjust slowly, and he takes in the sight of Seungcheol's cock, still amazingly hard and glistening from Jihoon's mouth. Seungcheol's chair is flush with the edge of the desk, but Jihoon can picture his satisfied expression when he slouches back in his seat with a breathless, “Fucking hell.”

Another moment passes, and then Seungcheol rolls the chair back, but he doesn't stand up. Doesn't invite Jihoon out from his hiding spot.

"Would you like that Jihoon? Should I invite the rest of the board members in here to help me out?"

" _No_ ," Jihoon snaps, and his voice is wrecked gravel. He stares up into Seungcheol's handsome, implacable face. "I just want your dick. Nobody else’s."

“Very happy to hear that.” Seungcheol says, a faint smile twitching at one corner of his mouth before he reaches for Jihoon and hauls him bodily out from beneath the desk.

Jihoon's limbs are shaking too badly to stand, but then he doesn't need to remain upright for long. As soon as Seungcheol has him out from his impromptu cage, he is hoisting him up to sit on the desk, laying him down flat and spreading him wide.

Jihoon doesn't even care that his wrists are still trapped behind him; barely registers the overstimulated ache from the plug in his ass being pulled out. All he cares about is the heat of Seungcheol's body settling between his thighs; a welcome warmth after waiting naked in the chilly office for so long.

Seungcheol lifts Jihoon’s legs over his shoulders, leaves him like that for a long second, naked and stretched out. Then looks at him like he's trying to decide what to do with him next.

There are a million things Jihoon could say, a dozen smiles he could give. But nothing comes out—there's just white noise.

"Tell me you want it," Seungcheol asks, as serious as Jihoon's ever heard him.

"I want it." He still sounds breathless, skin warm, hands sweating where they're squeezed tightly together behind his back.

Jihoon’s still well lubed up from the plug, so Seungcheol doesn’t even bother with adding any more as fucks his way inside him, not stopping until he bottoms out, filling Jihoon's body completely. Jihoon spread his legs wide to welcome him and groans out loud, the sound immediately muffled by the weight of Seungcheol's palm covering his mouth.

“ _Shh_ , now.” Seungcheol coos. “The doors locked, but there’s still plenty of people outside to hear you being a little slut for me.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes at the filthy endearment, then his eyes roll to the back of his head when a hard thrust jostles him atop the desk.  

It’s a damn good thing Seungcheol's heavy palm is covering his mouth, because the second Seungcheol starts moving in earnest, pleasure speeds through Jihoon hot and hard, and he can't keep quiet if his life depended on it. The locked door of the office may be heavy enough to omit the sounds of their bodies moving together, the rhythm and occasional scrape of furniture; but Jihoon’s _never_ been a quiet fuck. Even sturdy wood might not be enough to muffle the high, frantic sobs of pleasure trying to escape him now.

Obviously, the smarter thing would have been _not_ to seduce Seungcheol at his office. He accepts that was a teensy bit of an oversight now.

Early afternoon on a Friday—kind of the busiest day of the week here. There are at least a dozen of employees on the other side of that door. All of them seated at cubicles in neat rows, all of them working their asses off in the hopes of leaving early to start their weekend. All oblivious to the fact that their CEO is currently fucking his sugar-baby into next week atop the work he’s _supposed_ to be doing.

Seungcheol seems to be mindful of that fact too.

He’s quieter than usual; making loose, punched-out noises. There's the occasional word in there, cracked and messy. That beautiful, husky voice slurring out breathless obscenities with each deep thrust.

They move together with perfectly matched desperation, even as hard edges dig into Jihoon back; objects trapped between Jihoon's weight and the otherwise smooth surface of Seungcheol's enormous desk. Pens and highlighters that toppled from their holder when Seungcheol pinned him, a stack of folders, the metal spiral of an open planner—because even in this era of technology and digital scheduling, Choi Seungcheol—the fucking tech _dinosaur_ —insists on keeping a  _physical calendar_  on his desk.

“That’s it, that’s it—take it.” Seungcheol's voice is that extra deep flavour of rough that Jihoon likes best. _“Ngh_ —good boy.”

There is a possessive glint in Seungcheol's eyes, a familiar fierceness kindling alongside deeper affection. It's a heady mix that coils pleasure in Jihoon's chest.

It used to frighten him when Seungcheol looked at him like this. Like he’s perfect, like he belongs right here, like he  _matters_. Jihoon didn’t always know what to do with affection, even when balanced by mind-melting sex. But he’s learnt better with Seungcheol.

He knows Seungcheol’s not the kind of guy to waste his time or his warmth, and Jihoon? Jihoon  _knows_  he means a damn to Seungcheol, knows he’s more than just his sugar-baby, even if it isn't what either of them expected when they started this arrangement.

Jihoon gasps at another thrust, at the feel of the slick, huge cock inside him. His own legs are wrapped around wide hips, ankles hooked together at the small of Seungcheol's back, urging more. Deeper.  _Harder_. Pleading without the benefit of words for Seungcheol to take and take and take, to make him feel this for _days_.

Seungcheol delivers that and more.

There are going to be marks all over him from Seungcheol's hands, on his ass, his hips, Seungcheol's fingers pressing in hard, and just the thought of it makes Jihoon push down more urgently on Seungcheol's cock.

“Fuck—fuck,” Seungcheol rasps in a rough, breathless voice.

It's with difficulty that Jihoon opens his eyes. Fuck, he's  _so close_ , body on a knife edge of need. He can barely swallow, barely _breathe_ but he needs to see—loves to watch Seungcheol like this—loves to glimpse iron control slipping away by shuddering degrees. Seungcheol is so much bigger than him. Broad shoulders, sturdy chest, soft bulk over powerful muscles. So much strength on constant display, and Jihoon loves it—always—but even more so in moments like this, when all that strength is focused on  _him_. Holding him down, taking care of him, fucking him like there's no tomorrow.

Then, suddenly—Seungcheol goes still inside him, abruptly and completely motionless.

Jihoon gasps in surprise, but there's nothing he can do to urge the guy back into motion. Even if his hand weren’t tied, Seungcheol’s too strong, his grip unrelenting, if the guy doesn’t want to move—he’s not going to fucking move.

Jihoon tries to play his game and wait him out, but Seungcheol’s cock is an intimate presence, nestled so deep that—even in perfect stillness—the weight of it leaves Jihoon quivering.

“ _Cheol_ —” His plea comes out muffled against Seungcheol’s hand, earns him a dark chuckle.

Jihoon glares up at him—which probably isn’t the best way to get someone to do what you want them to. But his whole body is a live wire of hungry need, the promise of satisfaction hovering just out of reach. He feels desperate, and lost, and he needs Seungcheol to  _move_. Move right the fuck now.

There is a teasing glint in Seungcheol's eye as they stare at each other through several taut seconds. Seungcheol must be close too—Jihoon can feel it in the bruising strength holding him still—but he is also clearly enjoying this. The torment. The absolute control. The cruel agony of making Jihoon wait for it.

"What’s wrong Jihoonie?" Seungcheol chuckles, even though audible strain leaks through the lightness of the question.

Jihoon tries to answer, but he can't beg like this, silenced by the heavy press of the hand over his mouth. He meets Seungcheol's eyes instead, and breathes a sound raw with need, a low keen that aches in his chest and makes him feel naked and vulnerable. Even muted, the sound is painfully honest, and he _knows_ it has to have an effect on Seungcheol.

“Aww—you want me to keep going baby boy?”

Jihoon nods quickly. With what little room he has to manoeuvre, he arches beneath Seungcheol's weight to make his desires clearer.

The strangled little breath he’s taking turns into a mess when Seungcheol's fingers slide over his cock and grasp him, all heat and pressure and strength. Jihoon pushes into it and then sobs when Seungcheol pins him still.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?" It sounds a lot like he's being told off, but Seungcheol's jacking him now, slow and easy, "Do you know how hard it's been to be away from you? To not be able to touch you _all_ the time," Seungcheol presses into him again, like he has every intention of fixing that.

God, please let him fix that right now.

Jihoon's losing his mind, it's official, and he's choking out Seungcheol's name in a way that sounds demanding and desperate.

“I don’t think you do.” Seungcheol grunts, hips shifting between Jihoon’s thighs, jostling the deeply buried line of his cock. “You have no idea what you do to me—the things you make me _want_.” Another jostle of the cock inside him, and Jihoon whimpers. “You make me want _everything_ with you.”

Jihoon breathes a muffled cry of pleasure when Seungcheol's hips draw back and then snap fiercely forward. Paper crinkles beneath him as his body jerks atop the desk, and he hears the quiet clatter of half a dozen pens rolling to the floor.

But instead of picking up the pace again, Seungcheol’s hand—the one grasping his cock—lets go and slips between their bodies to grab the base of his own dick.

“But you broke the rules today, and for _that_ —you need to be punished. And not the way you like to be either.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise as the world abruptly turns upside-down, and then stays that way.

He was pretty sure when he came here with his suit and his toys and his fake ID badge that he knew how this would play out— _knew_ with complete confidence that Seungcheol would fuck him on this desk, on the floor, against the window, in the middle of the day and they’d both _love_ it.

But _now_ …

Now Seungcheol’s pulling all the way out and the hand covering Jihoon’s mouth disappears.

_Woah—what?_

Seungcheol shuts his eyes, takes a long, shuddering breath before opening them again and saying, “Now, you’re going to get dressed, and you’re going to leave. _Quietly_.”

Jihoon bites his own lower lip to keep from protesting when Seungcheol straightens and takes a step back, the circle of his legs parting only reluctantly to let him go. At least he doesn't go far—only steps away far enough to hoist Jihoon upright, then deftly reaches behind him to tug at the knots of the silk tie, releasing Jihoon's tingling wrists.

A different sort of stillness follows in the moments immediately after, as Seungcheol moves further away to put his clothing to rights—zipping himself back up and re-knotting his crumpled tie.

Jihoon watches him numbly, shaking his head, trying not to feel perturbed that Seungcheol has turned the tables on him, out-maneuvered him—during _sex_.

“You—you can’t seriously be considering leaving me like this?” He finally gasps, hands shifting and curling tightly around the edge of the desk. He’s still trembling in place, cock hard and leaking and thighs spread indecently as if hoping for Seungcheol’s return.

There’s no way Seungcheol would leave him unsatisfied. No way he’d just stop—

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do Jihoon.” Seungcheol’s stern voice interrupts his thoughts. “You know the rules. You know better than to tease me when I’m at work.”  

Now that he’s looking for it, Jihoon can see the stiffness in Seungcheol’s shoulders, the clench of his jaw; poorly bottled up irritation.

Is he—is he _angry_?

Where they having angry sex?

Was Seungcheol having angry sex with him and Jihoon didn’t even _know_ about it?

“But—but you’re still hard too.” Jihoon whispers, as much to fill the silence as anything else, trying not to _stare_.

“I’ll manage.” Is Seungcheol’s curt reply.

So, _yes_ to the angry sex then.

Jihoon continues to stare at him disbelievingly for a moment longer, then sits straighter and squares his shoulders. Not so much bracing for a fight as shoring up his resolve.

“Fine then—guess I’ll just go back to your place and find a way to _entertain_ myself. Maybe I’ll jerk off all over your nice expensive suits.”

“Please—be my guest,” Seungcheol says. Even as he speaks, he is gathering Jihoon’s scattered articles of clothing from the floor—setting them on the edge of the desk next to Jihoon. “Besides, I think you’re going to need the practice, seeing as your hand is the only release you’ll be getting for a long time.”

“What—” Jihoon's mouth snaps shut and a shudder wracks his exhausted frame. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t _need_ to jerk off. I have toys— _lots of toys_. Despite what you might _believe_ , I don’t _need_ your dick to have fun Cheol.”

Seungcheol drops the last article of Jihoon’s clothing on the table, and when he meets Jihoon’s gaze again there's fondness softening the previously stern contours of his face.

“True. You _do_ have a lot of toys. Have fun with them.” There is the faintest knowing spark beneath the words. A glimmer just shy of teasing.

He’s so fucking smug right at that moment—Jihoon’s tempted to hurl something at him. So fucking tempted. The butt plug’s sitting inches away from his fingertips and it would be so _easy_ to just hurl it at Seungcheol’s head and make himself feel better.

But—whatever—he’s not even going to give Seungcheol the satisfaction of throwing a hissy fit right now, because that’s _clearly_ what he’s expecting.

Gaze cutting to the floor, Jihoon’s shoulders slump in surrender. His head is bent but his jaw is a hard line of tension, teeth gritted, hands fisted on his own thighs.

It's a moment of silent fury. 

“May I use your bathroom to clean up?” He asks, composed, despite the way he is glaring at the carpet. 

Seungcheol answering snort sounds surprised. “That sounds suspiciously polite coming from you.” Then with an air of great indulgence, he sighs and says, “Of course, go ahead.”

Jihoon doesn’t dare meet his eyes as he eases himself down from the desk, gathers his clothes and shuts himself in the Private bathroom.

He quickly dresses, splashes some water on his face, and doesn't jerk off, even though he really, _really_ wants to. But he does stall in the bathroom for as long as he can, staring at himself in the mirror until he loses the murderous little dent of frustration between his eyebrows.

Shit—he almost threw a butt plug at Seungcheol’s head!

This really isn’t how he expected things to turn out, and he he’s pissed, embarrassed and still so ridiculously turned on he has to fight the urge to turn right back around and go in shouting.

This is so unfair.

When he finally composes himself and struts back out into the office, Seungcheol’s leaning back in his seat, admiring the discarded butt plug. He’s holding it, apparently feeling the weight of it, like perhaps he’s thinking of keeping it and using it as a paperweight or something.

Jihoon strides forward, stopping just in front of Seungcheol chair and holding his hand out to take it back. Seungcheol turns the plug in his hand, one final inspection, before dropping it into Jihoon’s outstretched palm. “You were about to throw that at me earlier, weren’t you?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t risk denting a perfectly good plug on your thick head.” Jihoon scoffs.

Seungcheol snorts for so long he sounds like he’s snorkelling underwater.

Jihoon glares at him, then stuffs the plug back into his jacket pocket, along with the gag and cuffs he brought, that Seungcheol chose _not_ to use in favour of more _traditional_ means.

“Can I ask how long this ‘punishment’ is expected to last?” Jihoon asks, too wrung-out to care if his gravel-roughened voice sounds plaintive.

Seungcheol seems to consider that, drumming his fingers on the desk. “It depends on a few things. Namely when I think you’ve learnt your lesson and have a better appreciation for the rules.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. He hears his own voice blurt a retort before his brain can weigh in. “Be more specific jackass!”

Seungcheol holds his calm, though he returns Jihoon’s stubborn stare with a piercing, hard look of his own that twists hot under Jihoon's skin. “Jackass huh? That’s not very nice. In fact, just for that, I’m adding on another _week_ to your punishment.”

Jihoon’s jaw drops before he can clamp down on his reaction.

“But—but it’s my birthday next Wednesday!” He complains, in a way that's loud and overly whiny because he's done nothing to deserve this.

He thinks.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t.

And if he _has_ , it can’t be bad enough to take sex off the table!

The hardness of Seungcheol's expression breaks just a little.

“It is, isn’t it? You’ll be turning 20 and _damn_ —I had such a nice present for you too,” He sighs wistfully, scratching his chin. Then resolve smoothes his features a moment later, “Guess I’ll have to save it till you’re a good boy again. I’m patient like that—you should learn some patience too.”

Jihoon scowls at this, on general principle, and because Seungcheol would no doubt be shocked if he didn't. He spins on his heels and storms towards the door, resisting the urge to knock over a chair and topple over shit in irritation. The last thing he needs is for Seungcheol to add another week of punishment on to his tally for _making a scene._

Stopping just in front of the door, he takes a moment to compose himself again before leaving. But instead of twisting the handle, he turns back around to face Seungcheol, manages to quirk one corner of his mouth into a convincing approximation of a demurred smile.

“Can I… get a kiss before I leave?”

As bait goes, it's not his best.

Seungcheol’s answering smile is a sharp flash of teeth, “I’m not falling for that shit twice Jihoonie.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to yell, but Seungcheol stops him with a look, a single raised eyebrow. It’s a threat and a challenge in one, and no one else has ever _—ever_ been able to shut Jihoon up so _easily_.

Swinging the door open, Jihoon gives Seungcheol one last glare, which he really hopes qualifies as smouldering, before storming out. He's a grown man and therefore entitled to a good sulk if he feels like one. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Been almost a year since I updated this series! Shit, I really have been busy with other fics, but now that I've finished two, I can comfortably return to a more regular updating scheduled.   
> 2) This part in the series will have more chapters because there's going to be more relationship development etc.   
> 3) I had a few comments on previous parts of the series where ppl are frustrated that there always seems to be a misunderstanding or fighting in each part and....that's just how I want the storyline to go tbh. If you want wall to wall fluff, you're reading the wrong fic.   
> 4) Made Jihoon blonde again, because Blonde Hoon is my fave :)


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